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Confessions of a Bookworm

I have been a bookworm for about 40 years … yes, that means I was hooked on books by the age of 1.

I read for a zillion reasons … escape, entertainment, adventure, inspiration and to live vicariously.

I often read 10+ books per week … library books and Kindle books on my iPad. These usually include a stack of quick adventures, YA fiction or romance novels, how-to-write, alternative education & home education theory, maybe an autobiography, one of the free classics for Kindle, or a longer book (e.g. Mao’s Last Dancer). I also read aloud to my children regularly, even though they are awesome, preteen bookworms.

I sometimes experience depression, and the worse the depression, the more I read. I guess it’s because the alternative is overthinking. When logic fails and everything is hard, escapism helps. Reading a lot does not mean I am depressed though.

I often abandon books … if it’s not captivating or challenging, I’m done. Life’s too short, and all that. Do you agree, or are you a committed book finisher?

I like books more than parties, shopping and restaurants.

I once QUIT reading fiction for a year! Can you believe it?! I made that radical, impulsive decision because I was getting lost in historical fictional worlds a little too deeply, and I wanted to get back to my priorities (faith, work, family and friends). I survived, and it was actually a good experience. When I returned to voracious reading, my habits and tastes had actually changed for the better.

I stay up late almost every night because I ‘have to’ read, and once I start I never want to stop.

I read compulsively … labels in the shower, ingredient lists, book spines on shelves everywhere, open diaries. No word is safe, but I have taught my eyes to ‘bounce’ if something is obviously private or unsavoury.

I actually don’t love the smell of old books, and I find most used book stores claustrophobic and sneeze-inducing (some of my dearest friends might disown me over this).